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by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Endings to Bring Closure [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: The broken rafters have long turned into ash and coal, but for some reason the keep still smells of burning wood. It was a terrifying smell, once, but now Eidis finds it oddly comforting – it means she is home.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> (Written for a prompt from the 'sensory prompts' set on tumblr, thrown at me by Miya: The smell of burning wood.)

The broken rafters have long turned into ash and coal, but for some reason the keep still smells of burning wood. It was a terrifying smell, once, but now Eidis finds it oddly comforting – it means she is home. There are cobwebs and broken stones everywhere around her, intermingled with adra shards – sharp, she has accidentally hurt her hands and feet on them so many times – and books crushed into paper dust. Whatever remains of once rich fabrics and furs is torn and charred. Eidis knows that if she ventured into the main hall, she would find the throne broken and the cracked head of the Steward lying on chipped tiles in a corner of the room. But she no longer goes there.

There is no living soul in Caed Nua aside from her, and it feels more like a tomb than anything else, but it is still home. And after the roar of fires and the thunder-like sound of crumbling walls and screams of people, she welcomes the silence. One day she will eventually drown in it, drown in herself, like Maerwald had, and maybe she will forget everything but some memories of a past life yet uncovered. Something happier that what she remembers now. That is everything she prays for nowadays; the only thing she prays for at all.

Eidis wakes with a gasp, in her own bed, in her chambers, perfectly safe, the keep still standing, resilient and steadfast as always. She sighs quietly and raises both hands to hide her face in her palms. She is not even frightened very much anymore, not after waking up; just exhausted and in a low mood. But it would take more to scare her now than a nightmare she has been having for years.

The covers shifts as Thaos stirs at her side, now awakened as well. “Another nightmare?” he asks, voice rough from sleep, but his eyes are alert and focused.

“Same nightmare.” She sits, rubbing her arms, shaking; her nightgown is damp with sweat, and the room seems chilly.

Thaos sits up, too, and wraps a fur around her shoulders. He gets up, reaching for his robe, puts it on and ties the sash carelessly, then walks over to the fireplace, to tend to the slowly dying flames. He has always looked different in the firelight, with shadows flickering and dancing across his features. It makes his face seem otherworldly, almost unreal, and every gleam of light reflecting in his dark eyes only brings out their depth. Between flames and shadows, he seems unreachable; an undiscovered secret. But when he glances at her over his shoulder, without a smile, but with a softer look than the ones he usually gives the whole world, he becomes human again, real. Familiar.

Eidis watches as he stirs the embers with a poker and adds a few logs of wood from the basket, and then, in an afterthought, throws in a small piece of adra incense. After a while, the frown disappears from her face, chased off by a small smile as she admits to herself that she likes what she sees. It is not about the outlines of his silhouette, nor the glimpse of his chest she can spot because his robe is parted to the waist; she has never been very partial to _seeing_ him naked. It is something about his moves, how they are both easy and purposeful, unhurried but precise. Something about how domestic this scene is – not because they share a bed, but because he knows her bad dreams, and how he just takes care of things and leaves her space to recover at the same time. She takes a deeper breath as the scent of incense starts filling the room, and feels some of the tension turn to smoke and evaporate.

Thaos heats up some wine – not leftovers from dinner but a bottle he has put aside specifically for this purpose. He has always been observant, he has always been an expert in arranging all those little details; but seeing it now, used for soothing her worries and not for manipulation... Eidis watches him pour the wine into a cup, and she feels a little warmer. He has never been very affectionate, but he can easily read what she needs at a given moment, and he does all those little things honestly. And she would rather take mulled wine on an unpleasant night than flowers or jewellery on a sunny day.

“Thank you,” she mutters when Thaos hands her the cup; it warms her fingers and she closes her eyes briefly, inhaling the scent of spices.

The mattress shifts as Thaos sits next to her on the bed. He piles a few pillows and covers those with a fur, then throws some more furs and blankets over their legs, and in a moment they are resting comfortably, with him leaning against the pillows and Eidis curled up beside him, his arm around her. She sighs again, but in relief now; she feels calmer and warmer and simply _nice_. They always have very little time for this: just being together, sharing the silence.

Thaos leans in and presses his lips to her shoulder; a soft, gentle kiss meant to soothe. She melts against him, as the wine melts the cold and uneasiness away.

“Will you try to sleep?” Thaos mutters, his breath tickling her ear.

Eidis shakes her head. She never falls asleep easily after those dreams, and he knows it but still he asks, trying to convince her that maybe she should at least try.

“Sit with me for a while?” she asks quietly, because it feels good just to be held, to be close. To be taken care of, for a change, instead of taking care of other people’s troubles.

Thaos’ arms tighten around her a little; Eidis puts the cup away onto the small table and lays her head on his shoulder. It is not the most comfortable of pillows, but his hair is soft when she brushes her cheek against it, and it has the familiar smell of adra incense. Thaos waits until she settles and puts his hand over hers, letting her interlace their fingers.

“Close your eyes and I will tell you a story,” he murmurs in a low voice that trickles down her spine and makes her thoughts unravel, that disentangles all anxiety from her mind and leaves just a sleepy sense of contentment.

She pays no attention to the words, just listens to him speaking, voice rising and falling like ocean waves on a calm day, until it lulls her to sleep.

Eidis wakes up in the morning wrapped in blankets and furs and Thaos’ arms, calm and well-rested and happy. The dream got one thing right, she thinks, quietly enough so that she would not disturb his sleep. For the first time in years – decades – she dares to hope that she is home again.


End file.
